Monday morning at Nanshi No. 1 felt like waking up in a different universe. The warmth of the ferris wheel and the blueberry sweetness was gone, replaced by a biting chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.

I stood by the bulletin board, my heart hammering. I was waiting for him. I needed to tell him that I was staying, that I wouldn't let my uncle’s threats stop me—even if I had to find a way to pay for university myself.

Then, I saw him.

Lu Shaodong was walking down the hall, flanked by his usual crew from Class 9. But he wasn't wearing the relaxed, messy look from the lab. He was in a perfectly pressed school uniform, his tie done up to the throat, looking every bit the cold, untouchable heir to the Lu empire.

"Lu!" I called out, taking a step forward.

He didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. His gaze swept over me as if I were a stranger—or worse, a piece of furniture he was tired of looking at.

"Not now, Ling," he said, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion. He didn't use the nickname 'Owl.' He didn't even look me in the eye. He just kept walking, his shoulder brushing past mine with the cold indifference of a glacier.

The hallway went silent. The whispers started instantly, sharper than knives.

"Did you see that? The King of Class 9 finally woke up." "Guess the 'prodigy' got dumped. Figures. A girl like her was just a temporary distraction for someone like him."

I stood frozen, the titanium frames he had given me feeling heavy on my face. I wanted to scream, to grab him and demand to know what had changed in twelve hours. But then I remembered my mother’s terrified face and my uncle’s ultimatum.

He’s protecting me, a small voice whispered in my head. But as the day went on, that voice grew quieter, drowned out by his cruelty.

In the afternoon physics elective, Lu sat as far away from me as possible. When Mr. Zhang asked us to come to the front to demonstrate the progress on our circuit, Lu stood up alone.

"Mr. Zhang," Lu said, his hands in his pockets. "I’d like to request a change in the project structure. I’ll be finishing the theoretical derivations on my own. I don't think I need a partner for the final phase."

The room gasped. Mr. Zhang frowned, looking from Lu’s stony face to my pale one. "And why is that, Lu? You two were the most promising duo in years."

"Efficiency," Lu replied, finally looking at me. His eyes were like flint. "Working with someone who gets distracted by family drama is a liability. I’m here to win, not to play social worker."

I felt the blood drain from my face. It was one thing to be ignored; it was another to be humiliated in front of everyone. The boy who had wiped my tears in the rain was gone. In his place was a monster with his father’s voice.

"Fine," I said, my voice trembling but loud enough for everyone to hear. I stood up, grabbing my notebook. "If you want to be a solo act, be my guest. But don't expect me to hand over my data. I’ll see you at the National finals, Lu Shaodong. May the best 'liability' win."

I stormed out of the classroom, the tears blurred my vision only after the door slammed shut.

I headed for the basement lab—our sanctuary. I expected it to be empty, but when I opened the door, I found a single blueberry candy sitting on my workspace, right next to a stack of perfectly organized research notes he had clearly left for me.

I picked up the candy. My hands were shaking. On the back of the research notes, in his messy, jagged handwriting, was a single line that he had crossed out so hard the paper almost tore:

Run as fast as you can, Owl. Don't look back.

He wasn't just distancing himself. He was building a wall of ice to keep the fire from reaching me. But he didn't realize one thing: I wasn't afraid of the fire. I was afraid of the cold.

The war between us had turned into a cold war. And in this lab, surrounded by the ghosts of our shared secrets, I realized that if I wanted to save him, I had to beat him at his own game.